


Bringing Me Back To Life

by DrWholock_Holmes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Reichenbach Falls, Reichenbach Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrWholock_Holmes/pseuds/DrWholock_Holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was created on Omegle and was the first RP I'd actually ever done on there. It was co-created with http://pippinfaramirkilioakentook.tumblr.com :)</p><p>Backstory - Sherlock Holmes and Sebastian Moran face each other on the rooftop of St Barts. They have gotten to a point where each holds a gun to the other, both loaded and cocked, their hands on the triggers. They have decided that after three, they will shoot each other and end their lives. Knowing he has no other choice, Sherlock agrees and begins counting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bringing Me Back To Life

“Three,” Moran whispered, smirking.  
John ran onto the roof, breathless and disorientated. He knew what was happening from a single glance. Without thinking, he seized Moran's hand and pulled it away. Two shots fired. Moran fell back, still smirking, a gunshot in his forehead. Sherlock stared, rooted to the spot, gazing at Moran’s lifeless body, not sure as to what just happened. Then he saw John falling backwards. “John!” he yelled, running to him and catching him before he hit the floor.

John wondered what had happened at first. He didn't feel any pain. It was strange being shot he thought as he felt the ground suddenly crashing against his back and his head hitting it hard. He remembered the first time, in the war. The most obvious sensation was the heat. As if a lit match had suddenly burrowed under your skin, and the pressure, knocking the air from you. Then it came.  
The steady throbbing of searing pain in his torso. The world spun around him as his eyes fluttered wildly, and all he could make out in the haze was Sherlock's face, his mouth opening and closing as if screaming, but he heard no words. Felt only the pain and the light headedness rushing him.

"John! Oh my god... oh god..." Sherlock stammered, pressing his hand hard against the wound, letting John lean against him.  
It had all happened so fast. He'd somehow become face-to-face with the last of Moriarty's men, the last leader among them, and had a way of killing him. He'd have to die in the process too, but if it meant that Moran couldn't hurt his friends anymore, that was what he'd do. Die for John, like he did before, but this time... he'd really die. Now Moran was dead, and he wasn't and now John...  
"What just...? Will you be okay?" he asked desperately, frantic tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

John stared at Sherlock's face above him, noticing the slow stream of tears beginning to run down his cheeks and felt the sudden pressure of the taller man's hand, doing everything he could to stop the bleeding but as John's head reeled he tried to move slightly, peering down to see the pool of sticky redness forming by his side and realised that Sherlock would not be able to save him. 

He opened his mouth to speak but felt nothing but searing pain tear through him, running from the stomach to his lips and and the burning in his lungs as he tried to take a breath in. He spluttered, determined to say his final goodbyes to the man who had given him his life back. "Ssherlock..." he stammered.

Sherlock's hands were shaking as he pressed harder on the wound. He swallowed hard, shaking his head. "No," he said firmly, tears still slipping down his cheeks. "No, you are, not. Saying. Goodbye. You'll be fine. You've been shot before. You'll be fine.... won't you?"

John's eyes closed for a moment and he heard Sherlock gasp, felt his hands suddenly trying to shake him back to life, thinking he had already gone. As they opened again he ran his tongue over his lips, and ignoring the ever growing pain, spoke in the softest voice he could. 

"Sherlock. I'm sorry. I don't think I'll make it through this time. I was lucky, back then, but now..." he tried to lift one shaking hand to motion to his soaked stomach.  
"No, I don't think I will be okay, but before I go Sherlock, just one last thing..." he winced as the pain grew even more intense, knowing his time was running out. "Thank you Sherlock. I owe you so much." He smiled weakly as the light began to blur at the edges of his vision.

"No..." Sherlock whispered, moving his other, bloody hand up to John's face. "You can't leave now... not now you've made me human. Friends protect people, don't they?" He swallowed again shaking his head, the tears falling onto John as he lay in his arms. "John I... I never told you all the things I wanted to tell you. We never did all the things we wanted to do."

John tried to steady his vision, to take another breath in but as he did his lungs felt like they wanted to give up and every inhale was strained. "I know Sherlock, I know. I'm sorry that I have to go but I'm glad about one thing," he stretched his hand up to hold Sherlock's face gently in return.  
"I'm glad I got the chance to do everything we already have. I'm glad you've finally defeated Moriarty, and one final thing," he whispered as the light began to fade to nothingness around him. "Thank you for knowing me Sherlock Holmes, you brought me back to life." 

As the final words left his lips in the gentlest whisper John's eyes took one last look at the world, and to him it was beautiful, the most perfect thing he could ever see. Sherlock kneeling over him and holding him tight, his grey-blue eyes the last colours John saw dancing behind his eyelids as he finally sighed and closed his eyes.

"No..." Sherlock breathed as John closed his eyes. "No I... I didn't get to tell you..." He choked on his words, trying to shake John slightly, desperate for him to hear. "John? John!? No... no... I wanted to say... to tell you... John, I love you. There, I said it. You have to wake up now and say something back, or kiss me, or slap me or whatever, I don't care. You can't lie there like you don't care!" More tears fell onto John's wound as Sherlock looked him up and down, shaking his head. "You can't just lie there!! No! JOHN! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME NOW!"

It was too late, and in his mind, his stupid rational mind Sherlock knew that the man he loved so much had gone, but his hands clutched harder and from his mouth fell John's name, over and over like a prayer, until his throat burned from speaking and his mouth still formed the words silently, pleading to bring John back to life. 

In the end he wasn't sure what he was saying, perhaps to anyone listening it would not even make sense, the gabbled words of a man with a broken heart but for once in his life the great Sherlock Holmes was wrong. If anyone had been listening they would have heard him, as clear as any bell. The words he spoke, over and over despite his pain were simple. "John Watson, I love you."


End file.
